


if i were being honest

by wintersoldier1989



Category: The Martian (2015)
Genre: Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:28:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22947808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintersoldier1989/pseuds/wintersoldier1989
Summary: Drunk Drabble prompt : Chris Beck "I'll be here to protect you"With your husband set to leave on his next mission in a couple of days, you want to make the most of every minute together but your anxiety is getting the better of you.
Relationships: Chris Beck & Reader, Chris Beck/Reader
Kudos: 16





	if i were being honest

After restlessly tossing and turning for what seemed like forever, feeling slightly envious of your husband who’s passed out next to you, you scoot out from under the duvet. You needn’t worry too much about waking Chris, because he’s sleeping pretty hard; like he always does after a couple of satisfying orgasms.

The fleece of your robe warms your skin as you wrap it around yourself, knotting waist as you make your way downstairs and into the kitchen. You methodically fill the kettle and ready your favourite NASA mug with a sachet of peppermint tea. A routine you’d perfected over many sleepless nights.

Though since Chris had been home, you’d slept soundly wrapped up in his arms each night, and to be totally honest it was a feeling you could easily get used to.

You settle on one of the stools along the breakfast bar, soaking up the heat from the mug with your hands as you wait for the hot tea to cool just a bit. The moonlight that illuminates the kitchen is a stark reminder of what lies ahead; that Chris’ next launch was only days away. 

You yearn to feel the familiar comfort of silence. Feeling almost desperate for it, you close your eyes to quiet the lingering loudness in your mind. 

The sudden squeak of footsteps on the staircase redirects your attention and you’re greeted by your husband, who’s wearing nothing but a sleepy gaze and cotton pajama pants. 

“There you are,” He rasps, combing a hand through his tangled hair. Chris lets out an adorable yawn as he makes his way over to you. “When I didn’t find you in the bathroom, I thought I better go out on a search and rescue mission,” he mumbles against the nape of your neck, squeezing you tight in his arms from behind.

“Found me,” you whisper, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forearm, careful not to jostle your tea. “Just needed some tea to make me sleepy.”

He nips along the shell of your ear, musing, “I can think of another way to tire us both out.”

You wished that sounded appealing. That you could ignore all the nervous energy coursing through you and go have amazing sex with your husband; your husband that in a few short days you wouldn’t be seeing for a long, long time.

But instead of jumping into his arms and letting him carry you back to bed to be thoroughly ravaged; your thumbs drum apprehensively against the side of your mug. 

“Rain check?” You squeak, your voice catching ever so slightly.

“Woah? What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He asks, shifting to get a better look at you and the look of concern that fills his expression, leaves no doubt that he can easily see the tears brimming in your eyes.

Clearly caught as off-guard by your sudden rush of emotions as you are; Chris spins you around on the stool. He places your mug on the countertop and cups each of his hands on either side of your face, thumbs tenderly brushing over your cheeks. You internally curse yourself for slipping, but between the rush of anxiety, lack of sleep and many orgasms courtesy of your attentive husband, your brain feels like it’s been through a blender. 

Not trusting your voice, you shake your head trying to dismiss his worry. But he’s assessing you intently, gone is his sleepy gaze; replaced with the intense focus and analytical skill that you know make him the best in his field and an invaluable member of his team.

“Is this about me leaving?” He ventures an easy guess.

Lip nervously clenched between your teeth, Chris’ thumb brushes along your bottom lip and tugs it free, urging you to speak.

“It’s dumb,” you whisper, feeling full of guilt for burdening him with your emotional turmoil. You’d wanted to spend these last few days together making happy memories for him, knowing that he was under enough stress; that he doesn’t need anything else to worry about. “You’re here and I should be happy. But I’m _just_ _not._ ”

Chris pulls you to him, his strong arms link around your back and your face buries itself in the soft thatch of his chest hair.

“You’re right. I am here.” His begins to rub soothing circles on your back, the warmth of his body is working wonders on calming your nervous system; much more effective than your peppermint tea.

_“And I’ll be here to protect you. Always.”_

“What do I need protection from?” You ask, tilting your head to look him in the eye.

“That big beautiful brain of yours,” he whispers against the crown of your head. “I’m going to slay every one of those worries running through your mind.” 

You smile at the sentiment and at the kiss he adds for good measure. You know Chris would do anything for you and you wanted to be able to do the same for him; to let him go live his dream and do his job, without worrying about you _._ “I’m sorry,” you apologize. “I don’t want to worry you.”

Firm hands on your shoulders, Chris puts some distance between both of you. 

“Jesus, baby.” He shakes his head in disbelief. “Is that what you think? That you can’t be worried because you’ll worry _me?”_

“You’ve got enough on your plate,” you tell him. “The last thing you need, when you should be focused on your mission, is to be thinking about your wife at home.”

Chris kisses you again, though this time his lips are more insistent against yours. He tastes you thoroughly until you’re gasping for breath and your cheeks are flush. And your husband tenderly rakes his fingers through your hair, while you recover.

“Sweetheart, I think about you every minute of every goddamn day. It kills me that I can be there for you when you need me. That you feel like you have to put on a happy face just for show. I want all of you, the happy and the sad; the fears and the excitement. I’ll always be there for you; through _all_ of it.”

The emotion and truth in Chris’ words, hit your body and mind full force. Chris scoops you up in his arms and holds you on his lap as he takes your spot on the stool. Tears streak your face and he dutifully brushes them away while rocking you gently in his arms until your stilted whimpers lessen and your worries are soothed.

You’re not sure how much time has passed, but you know it’s been long enough that your tea is most likely cold. So in an attempt to warm up, you snuggle in closer and let your husband just take care of you.

After a couple more minutes he breaks the comfortable quiet, “You know, Vogel and Martinez are already spending their _Beck Jar_ fortune.”

You look up at him, curious; not quite understanding the reference, so he explains.

“They keep a tally for each time I talk about how amazing you are. Each offence costs me twenty-five cents, unless it’s indecent, that costs me a dollar. Well worth it though,” he muses. “I’m definitely going to go broke.” 

You muffle a heart-felt laugh against his chest at his admission, the remnants of your tears mark his chest; but Chris doesn’t seem to mind.

Already feeling much lighter at the emotional catharsis, you try your own attempt at humour.

“Well it’s a good thing I didn’t marry you for your money, Dr. Beck.”

Your husband makes a surprised gasp of astonishment. “You didn’t?! Well how in the hell did I ever convince an amazing woman like you to marry me? Definitely couldn’t be my unfortunate career choice.”

“Not unfortunate at all,” you tell him. Reminding Chris that you never want him to feel guilty about being away from home, especially while he’s doing something he loves. 

Lifting a palm to his pec, you begin to seductively caress his chest; even though you know you look like a hot mess. “There is a certain status being married to a doctor, you know?”

“So I’ve heard,” he replies, his eyes sparkling deviously in the moonlight at your playful tone.

“But I married you for something much more important than that.” You lift your head, meeting his gaze full force. Chris looks at you with such earnest sincerity, that your heart aches in your chest. You want your best friend to know that you love him more than anything in the world. You want him to feel the weight in your words like you did in his. 

Moving your mouth to his, you gently sweep your tongue over his lips. Chris grants you entry, allowing you to give or take as much as you want. Your lungs burn when you finally break the kiss. Your husband’s eyes are hot, filled with an insatiable lust for his wife.

You lean in again, ghosting your lips over his but not enough to make contact.

“You really wanna know why I married you?” You ask him.

He nods, his gaze heady and full of brazen want.

“The reason I married you, Dr. Beck; is because you’re the most compassionate, selfless and loving person I’ve ever met.” 

You seal your declaration by finally closing the almost imperceptible gap and once more claiming his mouth with a kiss. Slipping a palm under the elastic of his waistband you give his butt a suggestive squeeze.

“Though it also doesn’t hurt that you have a truly _amazing_ ass.” 

A surprised squeal escapes when Chris stands abruptly, jostling you in his arms as he starts to sprint up the stairs presumably towards the bedroom. 

“Chris, what are you doing?” You laugh as he jumps on the bed, still holding you close.

“T-minus 36 hours, Sweetheart.” He says, referencing how much time you have left together.

“And I’m gonna let my wife ogle my ass all she wants.”


End file.
